Part Three: Control Series

"Come on boys, we're going out to dinner!" John called from downstairs. Dean had been in his bedroom doing god knows what - probably reading skin mags, John thought - and Sam had been in his own bedroom studying and doing homework. Well, at least that's what the other Winchesters thought.

Sam stood in his bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror that he had been given by Ruby. He raised his shirt, eyes burning holes into the pudge of his stomach. He groaned slightly.

"I'll never be good enough..." Sam whispered, trailing off. He dropped his shirt just before Dean walked into his bedroom.

"Hey, Sammy, didn't you hear dad?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a second," Sam answered.

"Okay, you do your pruning thing, you girl," Dean joked. He walked downstairs to meet their father.

Sam took another glance at his body.

You cow... he thought to himself. Without allowing himself another thought, he walked downstairs to meet his father and brother.

"Where are we going out to dinner?" Sam asked.

John sighed. He knew this was coming; his youngest son had been a picky eater for the past few weeks, only wanting to eat salads and such.

"We're going to that Italian restaurant you boys like," John answered. "Pasta everywhere, and they have a light menu if you're that worried about your weight, Sam."

"I'm not worried about my weight," Sam fibbed. That's exactly what he was worried about, but the less his family knew the better. "I'm worried about being healthy, and eating out at Italian restaurants is not healthy. Can't I just stay home?" he asked.

"No, you can't stay home," John said. "I want to talk to you boys about school and how you've been. We haven't had a family dinner in a while."

"Okay, okay..." Sam trailed off.

They went to the Italian restaurant that him and Dean had always liked.

Past tense, Sam thought to himself. This place is way too fattening for my figure. Good thing I haven't eaten anything yet today.

John looked through the menu and immediately ordered a large steak. Dean decided on the garlic pasta. Sam decided on a light ordered lasagna. It arrived very small.

Sam picked at his food, making too much conversation with his father and brother to be noticed. He went through all the motions, cutting his food into small pieces, bringing them to his lips before placing them down back on the plate when his family looked away.

"How have you been doing in school, Sam?" John asked. Of course he already knew the answer. Sam was his straight A student.

"I got all A's for the term," Sam answered.

"Of course you did," John said with a smirk of pride. Dean was beaming with joy as well. He had been Sam's tutor until the kid surpassed his abilities. "And you, Dean?"

"B's and C's," Dean answered. He was a better student when he was younger, but now that he was older, he was more lax when it came to his school.

They finished eating fairly quickly. John didn't notice Sam's still full plate. The food was cut up enough to appear as though he just hadn't finished his meal. When the waiter came by he asked, "Do you need a box?" to Sam.

"Uh, no," Sam answered. John still didn't think anything of it, focusing on paying the check. Dean did take the time to glance down at Sam's plate, noticing hardly anything missing. It looked as if Sam had only taken a few bites; which was the truth.

They drove home. John turned on a movie on the TV and began watching that. Sam went back up to his room to do his nightly exercise ritual, consisting of sit-ups, push-ups, and jogging in place for two hours before bed.

Dean, though, he went to his room to think. Sam had barely touched his plate. There was no evidence any of it had been eaten.

He knew what that meant. It meant the same thing that had taken his mother away.

Sam was anorexic.